


Yes, Sire!

by stbacchus



Category: Little Britain, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-10
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stbacchus/pseuds/stbacchus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Sebastian wants is to be the best manservant to the most handsome king in Albion. All Uther wants is to get through his treaty negotiations without causing a war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Sire!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from [**kinkme_merlin**](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/) ([link](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/2936.html?thread=1270136)): _Crossover, Uther/Sebastian (Little Britain). Uther's manservant is far from subtle._

As the sun broke over the horizon and the cock crowed, Uther Pendragon opened his eyes to find himself staring into someone else's. They were chocolate brown, filled with ineffable longing, and belonged to a man.

"Sebastian?" Uther mumbled. He vaguely remembered promising a spot in his household staff for one of his vassals' sons. Was this the boy? He was older than Arthur.

"Yes, sire! First things first: it looks to be a bit warm today, so I thought we'd cinch up these breeches a bit. More like a loincloth, eh?"

Uther blinked. "Philip usually does my dressing. Where is he?"

A cloud crossed Sebastian's face. "Oh, _him_. I sent him away."

"Away? What is that supposed to mean?"

"No use worrying about it. You'll just give yourself wrinkles," Sebastian chirped. "Let's forget about that nasty boy and get your nightshirt off."

He grabbed at Uther’s nightshirt and attempted to pull it over his head. Unable to see, Uther flailed around before finally getting both the nightshirt and Sebastian’s hands off his personage. But he hadn’t stopped the boy from looking - leering, really - at his bare chest.

"I'll do the dressing myself. You go and...await my orders. Outside."

"Yourself? My lord?" Sebastian somehow sounded both incredulous and disappointed.

The king ground his teeth together. This was the very limit. "I am Uther Pendragon, son of King Constantine II. I calmed a war-torn land, defeated more enemies than you can count, captured a dragon, and have presided over twenty years of peace and prosperity. I CAN PUT ON A TUNIC BY MYSELF!"

"I'll just fetch breakfast then, shall I?" Lower lip trembling, Sebastian covered his face with his hand and ran out.

Uther dressed, feeling an eddy of guilt amidst a tide of annoyance. He now remembered to whom he had made the promise. Damn that Wortley and his damnable fruits of temptation! If there were anybody else in Camelot capable of growing a strawberry, Uther would not be in this awkward position.

"Tell Merlin and Guinevere we are eating in the dining hall this morning!" Uther called through the door. He thought he heard a sob from the other side.

"There you are," said Arthur, when Uther got to the dining hall. "Can we eat now?" He scowled at Sebastian.

Morgana turned huge, sad eyes on Uther. "He said we couldn't eat until you got here."

"The king should have the first cut of meat. Everyone knows that," said Sebastian.

"Well, he's here now, so -" Arthur reached out to take some ham, and Sebastian whacked his knuckles with a riding crop. "Why do you even have that?!" Arthur grabbed the riding crop, but Sebastian was tenacious. They struggled back and forth for a moment before Arthur finally wrested it from his grip.

Sebastian tossed his hair and mouthed "whatever" to no one in particular.

“This is Sebastian Whelk-Wortley,” said Uther. “He is my new manservant.”

“Son of Duke Wortley? Ah, I thought I remembered you,” said Arthur. “You flunked out of my knights’ training.”

“I didn’t flunk, I quit. All that valor and damsels.” Sebastian shuddered. “I’m much happier right here, serving my liege lord. With…whatever…he may require.” Sebastian pulled out a handkerchief and delicately dabbed Uther’s chin. “Gravy,” he said tenderly.

Merlin and Guinevere exchanged a look. Arthur and Morgana looked ill.

Uther didn’t seem to notice anything. “Remind me again who’s visiting today?”

“Um. King Cenred. You’re discussing a treaty.” Arthur couldn’t stop staring at Sebastian, now massaging Uther’s shoulders.

“Stranger from a strange land, mmm, lovely,” said Sebastian.

“Not so lovely. Escetia is not friendly to us.”

“Oh, I think we can change that. We’ll give you the full-on spa treatment. If he’s coming this afternoon, we’d best start now!”

With a high-pitched giggle, Sebastian flounced out of the room.

“I know you didn’t ask -” Morgana began, but Uther held up a gloved hand.

“Duke Wortley produces nearly all the strawberries in Camelot. If he is displeased with the treatment of his son…it hardly bears thinking on.” Uther bit solemnly down on a strawberry to punctuate his point.

After breakfast, Sebastian ushered Uther into a parlor where he had set up a fainting couch and a variety of objects in bowls. Uther laid back on the couch, staring up through a skylight. It was all rather pleasant, actually.

Sebastian put cucumbers on the king’s eyes and began painting his face with something wet and sticky.

“Mud!” he announced cheerfully. “This will take years off. You’ll hardly recognize that ruggedly handsome face when I’m done with it.”

Uther couldn’t see what Sebastian was doing, but he felt his collar open and his trouser legs roll up.

“I should really be preparing with the Council,” Uther said. But the day was balmy, the cucumbers were cold, and he didn’t really feel like pressing things. Until he felt a razor blade on his calves. “What - what - what are you doing there?”

“Relax, sire, you’re in capable hands. This treatment is all the rage in the south.” Sebastian resumed shaving Uther’s legs.

“Now really, I think that’s enough! How is this supposed to help me with Cenred?”

“It will give you confidence, sire. Take it from someone who knows. Anyway, you don’t want them half-done, do you? That would be properly odd!”

Uther sighed. “Yes, I suppose it would. Finish up, then.”

“Yes, sire!”

 _If only all my servants had this one’s loyalty and enthusiasm_ , Uther thought. Then again, what on earth would he do if all his servants were like Sebastian?

**Author's Note:**

> Sebastian already has a last name, but I wanted to give him a new one for this new setting. I was aiming for Wodehouse; he almost became Sebastian Bassington-Bassington, but that’s more of a ripoff than a tribute. Originally written as a "cigarette break" from a heavier story.


End file.
